


Flicking the Switch

by Frangipanidownunder



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-04
Updated: 2017-12-04
Packaged: 2019-02-10 12:54:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12912339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frangipanidownunder/pseuds/Frangipanidownunder
Summary: My take on the recent photo showing Mulder tense and contemplative and Scully cocooned by his side in bed.





	Flicking the Switch

The blades of the fan whirred but did little other than circulate the already stale air. A fine cobweb puffed out on the regular draught then floated back down. It should have lulled him to sleep, the rhythm. Not just of the fan, but of her breathing, soft and regular next to him. But the sofabed was lumpy, thin. A spring poked into the spot at the back of his left shoulder where Scully’s bullet had left his body those years before. And the sheet was too short to cover his feet. He should be thankful. Despite the circumstances. The least he could do was sleep. The least he could do was switch off his fucking brain and let his body rest.  
There were strangers in the beds upstairs. Strangers who should have remained unknown. But whose presence was as comforting as it was distressing. The cobweb drifted up and down.   
She stirred, lifting her chin from his shoulder and the cool emptiness shocked his heart into a stronger rhythm. “Hey,” he whispered. “I think you drooled on me.”  
“Sorry,” she said, just audible above the rustling of the sheet. She released her arm and laid it on his chest, pinching the fabric of his tank between her fingers. “Did you sleep at all?”  
“I don’t keep you guessing any more, do I, Scully?”  
“The thrill is gone,” she said and he laughed softly. “How did you ever spend so much of your life sleeping on couches, Mulder?” She pushed herself up and he caught sight of the edge of her bra.  
“Sleep is overrated,” he said, rolling on to his side to face her. “Besides, I do my best thinking watching cobwebs in the darkness.” He raised his eyes to the ceiling.  
“I guess cleaning is overrated too.” She was still twisting his top in her fingers. “What are we going to do with them, Mulder?”  
“Let them sleep.”  
Her shoulder sloped just the way he remembered. Her collar bones protruded in the position she was in, casting promising shadows. Her hair, longer now, fell around her neck on one side. She licked her lips and he followed the movement of her tongue. The ache in his shoulder reminded him both of his age and of his younger years. How life turned in circles, inside out, proved itself wrong all the time. She shot him. She loved him. She left him. She was here now. There were strangers who weren’t strangers, in their house, that wasn’t theirs. They had slept in the same bed, but they hadn’t made love. She was pressed to his side but they weren’t together.  
“But don’t you want to know?”  
He pushed a strand of hair over her shoulder and she looked away, but he caught the small smile she tucked into her chin. She still craved her privacy. “Knowledge is overrated, Scully.”  
“I want to know everything,” she said, breathing onto his shoulder, “but I’m scared of the truth.” She let out a bitter laugh and he dropped his forehead onto hers, the familiar pressure. “That’s pretty fucked up, isn’t it?”  
The muscles in her arms were more toned these days and he ran his hands over the definition, re-learning her shape. “Our whole life has been fucked up. And we’re still here.” He stopped moving his hand and she lifted her gaze. “And our son is upstairs. His parents are upstairs. And we’re just going to lie here until they wake up and come downstairs. It’s too hot to think, too hot to worry.” He took a chance and pressed a kiss to her mouth. She didn’t stop him. She moved her foot between his legs. “Too hot to feel guilty again.”  
She linked her arms around his waist and he shifted closer, remembering the way their bodies fitted together. Muscle memory. Heart memory. “I’m never not going to feel guilty, Mulder. It keeps me going.”  
He heard the break in her voice and knew there was nothing else he could add. He enjoyed the pain of the guilt too; it ran through his veins as surely as his blood. He needed the poison. “There’s no amount of time or reasoning that will make up for what you had to do, what you sacrificed, Scully. What we missed out on. But we do have a chance to talk. If they want to.”  
She softened in his arms and her tears burned his neck. The pain in his shoulder flared. The pain in his heart exploded. The cobweb flew out as the fan blades turned. The pattern was never going to change until the switch was flicked off. And when the Van De Kamps and William joined them in the living room later, the switch was in their hands.


End file.
